The Organization's Gambit
by Dairo
Summary: After having taken heavy losses to the battle in Pieta and the insubordination of a slowly increasing number of their Witches, desperation sets in for the Organization. They are forced to admit that once again the production of Warlocks is needed...
1. Chapter 1: Mortal Coils

_Disclaimer: I'm sure this goes without saying, but the canon characters of Claymore are not mine. Additionally, Christopher the Unconquerable and Raki as a Warlock are the property of RagnellAlondite and Kraven Ergeist, respectively. Other non-canon characters and events are mine. I would appreciate R&Rs as well, since knowing that somebody is bothering to read my stories is a good inclination to continue to publish them publicly._

In addition to the threats already posed by the Abyssal Ones, as well as all the other Awakened males not yet accounted for, there were now rumors travelling of two male half-yomas among the renegades led by Miria. One of these had been for the longest time the Organization's Number 0, Christopher. There was very little information regarding the other, but it was believed that he could rival Christopher's power. These rumors were very unsettling to the Organization, and the Elders began to believe that their only solution to this problem was the unthinkable: the production of male warriors to once again accompany their constantly fluctuating female army. Naturally, these would have to be much more carefully maintained than their predecessors of either gender, but recent breakthroughs in research concerning the behavior patterns of their warriors as related to their human lives brought with them a glimmer of hope. It seemed that the majority of their traits as a human remained with them as a half-yoma, and there was a chance that these same traits affected their Awakened state. One could come to the conclusion that if a man was disciplined and obedient enough before his transformation, then he could still be reasonably assumed to be controllable after it. With that thought becoming the general consensus in the Elders' minds, they had sent out their top women to scout for potential additions to the ranks, though they were careful not to fully disclose to them what purpose these men were intended to serve. Numbers 1, 2, and now 3, or Alicia, Beth, and Rafaela, respectively, had each brought back one promising young man. Now, representatives of the Organization's upper echelons watched as each of these sparred against one girl who had just finished her transformation. The males were still human…

"This isn't even a fight," Magdalene, a new 32, complained as she pummeled her opponent Ryan mercilessly. He had kept up with her as she elevated through the first five percent of her power, an impressive feat for a human as it was, but he was already beginning to tire at six. And by the time she reached seven percent, he could barely lift his sword to block her strikes. Maggie was an aggressive woman and rather than let up when she felt him wear out, she spent the remainder of the designated time literally kicking him around and trying to watch the other two matches. It seemed both of the other males were faring better than hers, which only made her angrier and more ruthless in her assault on her opponent. "Come on, you pussy! You're supposed to be a legendary warrior! Do something!"

"I haven't been transformed yet, you crazy amazon!" he said in between gasps for air, which she kept kicking back out of him, "I don't have the strength and reserves of energy to keep up with you."

"Your skills are impressive. I can't believe you can still almost match my movements," Nadia said as she traded strikes and parries with her opponent. Michael had driven the new 27 to 10% of her power, and even though they both knew he was doomed to lose the five minute long bout, she continued to encourage him in his efforts.

"Stop patronizing me, bitch! Your condescending attitude is just pissing me off!" Well, maybe he wasn't as naturally submissive as he should have been, but if he proved himself, the organization would transform him anyway. After all, they were two-thirds of their way through a high intensity match, and he had just broken a sweat.

"You're mocking me, aren't you!? That's what that look in your eyes means, right?" Janelle was getting angrier every passing second. "Well, I'll show _you _who the stronger warrior is!" Her eyes had already been gold for the past minute, and now her skin turned blue and her fangs lengthened as she released more of her power. "Take this!"

The new 30 struck at Cael with far more strength and speed than she had so far –she had to be at least at 17 percent by now- and with, ironically enough, far less effect than any of her previous attacks. She was beating her head against a brick wall trying to force her way past his defenses. And he still didn't even seem to be moving all that fast. Every time their blades met, his was angled so that her momentum carried her past their center of combat as the two slabs of steel slid against each other rather than striking directly. He rotated his blade so it was on top of hers as she travelled past him yet again, then shoved it down forcefully while at the same time pushing against her back with his free hand and catching one of her ankles with his foot. The tip of her sword embedded itself into the ground, and then the blade bent and snapped in half as it failed to slow her superhuman speed and strength enough to retain its shape. The half she was still holding skidded out in front of her and to her left as she fell. It didn't stop her face from hitting the ground. Cael still said nothing; he only tapped the center of the back of her breastplate with the tip of his own sword while she burst into tears and reverted to human form. In the face of his extraordinary skill, all her speed and power ultimately meant nothing.

"Time!" A seemingly disembodied voice rang through the sparring chamber. The contestants still standing all sheathed their blades, and then looked at each other before returning their attention to their opponents. "Males, you are to go prepare yourselves for the procedure, in whatever way you feel is appropriate. Numbers 27 and 34, you are to report to the anteroom for your pending assignments as soon as conceivably possible. Number 30, clean yourself and go to bed. A new sword will have been prepared for you by morning." The voice's orders were punctuated by the echoing footsteps of their superiors leaving the chamber. They had seen enough, and were no longer interested in what transpired among their products.

At this point, Cael stooped to help Janelle, who was still lying face down, to her feet. But by the time his hand reached her arm, she wasn't there. Moving his gaze to his front but still on the ground, he saw her feet. So he straightened himself into his more dignified natural stance and looked down to her. The sound of her palm and the inner sides of her fingers striking the side of his face echoed in the now silent chamber. She had hit him so hard that he bit his cheek, and blood flew out of his mouth as his face snapped to one side with the force.

As the sound of her slap faded, silence once again took reign. No one knew what to say (Ryan, having just barely recovered from his beating, didn't even know what was going on). Janelle was more surprised by the slap than Cael was, mostly because she half expected him to catch it and shoo her away dismissively, as he had done with her every sword strike. But he didn't, and he also didn't make a snappy remark regarding whether or not hitting him made her feel better. One key aspect of the males' personalities, that only the top three Witches and the leaders of the Organization knew about, was the fact that they ultimately and unfailingly deferred authority to the women they were working with. This aspect was one of those the Organization had the recruiters ensure was the case, as they believed that this would mitigate any risk of yet another Abyssal One being produced.


	2. Chapter 2: Sounds of Truth

_Disclaimer: I'm sure this goes without saying, but the canon characters of Claymore are not mine._

_Author's Note: All three new Warlocks have two-syllable names. Also, continued dialogue within a paragraph is by the person who started it. New paragraphs start when the speaker changes. And due to some advice from one of my reviews, the interaction between Beth and Rafaela has been adjusted. As for why the twins seem to have much more personality in this story than they did in the manga... well, that's going to be dealt with in the next two or three chapters._

Alicia, Beth, and Rafaela all followed Rubel. They didn't have to try to walk without saying anything. The very idea that a mere human could keep up with, and even defeat, one of their Witches was unnerving to the former two. But Rafaela had chosen him because he had kept up with her all the way up to seven percent of _her _power before she finally defeated him. While she had only gained her rank due to the loss of two superiors, she was still a single-digit, and against anyone who could even stand a chance fighting her, a mere 30 had no hope. Alicia and Beth still stood in support of their respective champions, however. The distinct probability remained that once his body became foreign to him; Cael's advanced skills would work against him. In short, he was likely over trained.

"I'm sure the three of you are anxiously awaiting your next assignments," Rubel's voice cut through the rhythmic sound of their footsteps as they marched down the hallway. The three Witches silenced their thoughts regarding the men they brought back to the Organization's headquarters and focused instead on Rubel's words. After all, as entertaining as the idea of a pet might be, their job took the highest priority. "However, I must tell you that for the time being, you three aren't going anywhere," the mysterious man said light-heartedly. Although they should have known that they would be responsible for the creatures that would come into existence because of them, he knew that they had simply chosen to believe that they were just bringing in training targets for the latest generation. And he couldn't possibly pass up any chance to toy with their emotions.

"What!? What could you possibly have to gain by keeping us off the field?" Beth shouted. Despite her experience, particularly with anything concerning the Organization, she was still easily baited. Rubel chuckled and then sighed as he thought of the woman behind him and to his right. Getting a rise out of her was about as difficult and unnatural as breathing, at least for him anyway. Alicia and Rafaela just shot her cold looks, trying to warn her without words that reacting like that only encouraged him further.

"Obviously, you will be contributing to the training and testing of this Organization's latest products." This sentence was punctuated by a male scream that froze the trio of women, with the man in black leading them coming to a halt a few steps later. He turned to watch the fear fight for dominance of their carefully controlled faces. Rubel found it no less beautiful that he could not see Alicia's face. Her just-settling cape indicated that the sound had drawn her attention so quickly and thoroughly that she had lost her resolve long enough to snap turn in its direction.

"Ryan…" Her voice was a half-whisper as the familiarity of the tormented sounds he was making sunk in. She schooled her features and forced herself to face Rubel again. Alicia didn't want him to believe she had become too attached to the man she had brought all the way across the countryside to this particular building. "You had us bring them here to make them half-Yoma?"

"Your skills at deduction are impressive. I was wondering how long we could keep the-" he was interrupted by the sound of another masculine scream, this one seeming to have been torn from its source's throat, "-truth of your actions from you. Is something the matter, Beth?" he asked of the fiery warrior. The fact that she had stolen a look back, and was now pretending it didn't bother her, made it clear that this latest was from her charge, Michael. He seemed to be struggling to resist the pain the arcane surgery was inflicting on him. But it was an incredible amount of pain, and despite his efforts, his screams would sometimes join Ryan's, their volume overcoming those of the other man as his voice went hoarse. As one, the women failed to repress a shudder as they remembered the horrible suffering they endured throughout the procedure.

Rubel resumed walking, and they instinctively followed him, although their stride could hardly be called a disciplined march any longer. Now they were edgy and unnerved, a state he enjoyed keeping them in whenever he was in their presence. Even if producing Warlocks turned out to not be a good idea, he found that at least this part of it was enjoyable. Though he didn't look back again, he could imagine the numbers one and two cringing in time with their charges' screams, as well as the third's growing discomfort at the utter lack of hers. He reached the door that led to their dorms and was going to leave it at that, but he heard a heavy thud behind him, much like that of a body striking a hard surface. Turning again to face the women, he saw that Beth had Rafael pinned against a nearby wall. The look on Beth's face did not denote mental stability. Rafael had kept most of her composure, but the terror in her eyes was clear.

"This whole time… there have only been two male voices. What's wrong with yours, Rafie? Is he a mute, or is he really so unused to pain that he already passed out? Or… perhaps he already died?" she interrogated, her voice and eyes shaking, even as her increasing grip on the number three's shoulders was dislocating them. The idea that soon they would be accompanied by recently- transformed males scared her only slightly more than the one that Rafaela had found a better one than she did pissed her off. Right now, she needed her inferior's pain and fear. Beth didn't know if she could handle a change as drastic as this one from her superiors without forcing her control on _something_. And Rubel's next words only increased her anxiety, and by extension, the damage she was inflicting on Rafaela.

"After it was revealed that Cael had a blood tie to Rigardo, he was taken to a separate building for an experimental procedure. Also, his cell has been almost fully soundproofed. For all we know, he could be screaming louder than the other two combined. But nobody is going to hear him." Rubel chose not to tell them that someone not working for the Organization had taken the remaining scraps of Rigardo that they had left behind after collecting just enough for one more infusion. All in good time, he thought, as for right now though, the screams of the other two men had died down enough to allow the rookies to sleep. "You three wash up and go to bed. You know how long the procedure takes, and have until it ends to decide how exactly you plan to go about training them."

In response to that order, Alicia silently stepped past Rubel on her way to the hall that would lead her to her room. Beth, realizing just how far she had gone in harming Rafaela, released her shoulders and backed away from her. She then followed her twin to their room while Rafaela, her arms dead at her sides, began the slow process of regeneration typical of her offensive type. Once she regained control of the damaged limbs, she pushed herself off the wall she had been slammed into and stalked past Rubel, muttering to herself about wanting to murder the current numbers one and two. She didn't think he heard her, but she didn't get very far down the hallway before she heard his voice behind her.

"Oh and one other thing," he called out after them, making them pause and turn back again. The apprehension on their beautiful faces brought a smile to his. "You and the rookies are more than welcome to observe Ryan's and Michael's procedures at your leisure, in their case until they are required to leave." The three looked at each other, then at him again. They noticed he was no longer smiling. "However, one fact I must stress above all others. No one, and I repeat _no one_ that is not directly involved with Cael's procedure is allowed within the grounds in which he is being kept. The penalty for disobeying this order is a loss of rank, followed by death by torture. Please keep that in mind for future reference. Oh, and do rest well. The clients like their 'Claymores' pretty." With that, he shut the door to the dorm hallway, leaving the three to talk to each other.

Or not, as the case proved. There were, for the time being, no words that could find their voices as each woman's head swam with thoughts and nightmares of their charges. There hadn't been a new Warlock in over a century. Or was it two now? It was hard to say. In any event, they had in fact been ordered to go to sleep, something they would be glad for, if they could possibly find a way to clear their minds. It bothered Alicia that Beth was being less discreet about attacking anyone she outranked. It also bothered her that one part of her mind was starting to justify the renegades' choices and actions.


	3. Chapter 3: The Baths

_Author's Notes: If the cast list and ranking seems a little screwed up, it's because I'm trying to fill in the time just before the end of the timeskip, before Clarice's generation is released and the remainder of Clare's is divided out among Awakened, dead, and renegade. In short, it's supposed to take place between the devastation at Pieta and the other major battles of the Northern Campaign. I'll try to keep it as close to canon as possible, but at some point I'm going to have to give up and go completely AU. Also (-_telepathy_-) (internal thoughts). I wasn't aware until just now that converting these chapters to story format took out my greater-than less-than signs._

(_Where am I?) _was Ryan's first thought as his consciousness slowly returned to him. All he felt was excruciating pain at various and yet apparently measured points throughout his body, which itself felt foreign to him. Whenever his awareness of it managed to pierce through the pure agony, he felt his parts warping themselves, shifting out of place and then re-aligning. The piercing and twisting sensations were not the only sources of pain, however. Every inch of his body burned as flesh and bone alike absorbed the foreign materials –both solid and fluid- into themselves. _(Is this Hell?) _his thoughts continued, more forcefully as his mind dragged itself out of the seemingly endless gray fog it had been drowning in for an amount of time unknown to him. He found his eyes and opened them slowly, peeling the lids apart from each other through sheer force of will alone. The first things the shadows coalesced into for him were grayish blue features more masculine than his were, twisted into an epitome of suffering.

At least, they were when he first saw them, but the torment that mirrored his own was slowly being eroded away by some unseen force. The instant Ryan began to think that he wanted that same force applied to him, it occurred to him that it already had been, and was still. Amidst the epic and all-consuming burning throughout him, there was a small coolness on one side of his face. That gentle, relieving sensation traveled down to his neck, then across his chest and shoulders. Although the tubes prevented him from moving his head, he could move his currently yellow eyes enough to see a crown of silver, feathery hair just at the base of his peripheral vision. A movement across from him caused him to raise his eyes again, and he saw a similar treatment being provided to his counterpart by a sleek, feminine creature.

(-Glad to see you're awake, Prissy Boy.-) Michael's thought-voice rumbled and grated in much the same way that his physical one did. This was his first attempt at telepathic communication, a notion he'd picked up when he first noticed that he could sort of hear the Witches' thoughts, and could _definitely _hear Ryan's, whenever they existed. He wondered what had taken the other man's mind so long to return to his body. Michael looked at Ryan's comely silver attendant, dutifully washing the sweat and ichor from his skin. Was a woman's touch really so familiar for him that he no longer noticed it?

(-It was a pleasant nap.-) Ryan sent back across the room. Although it seemed like their faces were inches apart, in truth more than twenty feet separated them. Moreover, while at first, he was confused at having heard Michael's voice despite the tubes in his cheeks and lower jaw, he quickly figured out just how he was speaking and decided to try his own hand at it.

(-Bullshit. I know damn well it hurt you at least as much as it did me.-) Michael's half-laughing thoughts echoed through the strange connection between their minds. The part of his mind that was keeping him up to date on his body's condition informed him that the tubes were slowing their injections.

Ryan watched as a curious look crossed Michael's features, then, in a few moments, came to find out what had caused it. The injectors piercing his body slowed to a sluggish halt, and subsequently began detaching themselves, the actions accompanied by wet popping sounds and a hollow pain, followed shortly by a sharp chill. It was then revealed that one, now the sole remaining, had been serving as a catheter. His attendant's soft fingers curled pleasantly around his shaft and stroked it, and he heard her pensive whisper in his ear.

"This is probably going to hurt more than you can imagine," she warned, and his face, free for the first time in what felt like ages, immediately screwed itself up into a grimace.

"After this surgery? Try me," Michael's real voice echoed throughout the chamber. Nearly simultaneously, both women yanked out the last tubes violating the men they were taking care of. Their screams echoed down the hallways as they scrabbled on the floor, their unfamiliar bodies struggling to cope with and express the pain they felt. As the pain subsided, the screams faded into giddy, almost maniacal laughter.

"You know," Ryan managed in between hysterics, "I just noticed… this floor is _really _clean…" For some reason, quite probably the rush of euphoria the sudden absence of utter agony induced, this remark made the two men laugh even harder. Even the Witches watching over them had smiles daring to play across their otherwise stony features, as they chose to believe that this was a sign that the males were doing well.

"Speaking of things that just came to our attention," Michael rumbled across the floor to his counterpart. At the same time, he reached up to grab the breasts of the woman cleaning him. She didn't seem to mind, even when he tore the front of her leotard open to expose them and make direct contact with his hands. These were quickly resuming human shape and toning, despite the rush of energy and promise of ecstasy he felt traveling through his body. Which made him nearly forget the question he was going to ask his counterpart. "Weren't there three of us?"

* * *

_Two days earlier._

There where whispers in the hallways of the Abbey in which the new Witches were created, lived and trained. Whispers that Janelle had gone even further off the deep end, surpassing even Miata in her madness. Of course, Janelle did little in the way of dissuading these rumors, and in fact everything she did seemed to emphasize the truth of them. She had been spending more and more time alone, trying to imitate the movements Cael used to defeat her, and talking with her new claymore as though it were capable of responding.

The Organization might perhaps have done something about it, if it wasn't clear that through some mysterious means, her skill was improving drastically. In her sparring matches, she was pitted against warriors that outranked her by steadily increasing gaps. To make matters worse, she was winning more consistently. After she defeated the current 15, Miranda, the Organization saw fit to give her that rank, thereby shifting down Miranda's and that of everyone else below her. This promotion only served to isolate Janelle further, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she reacted to this by clutching her large sword to her chest and performing a twirling dance around her fallen opponent.

"Master will be so _proud _of me when he finds out!" the newly-promoted Witch practically sang. It didn't take Miranda or the other witnesses to this event much of a guess to determine to whom she was referring. Over the course of the procedure that would turn the three men into their companions, those Witches that had not yet received assignments watched as Janelle's hatred for Cael degenerated into obsession, and then, through some epiphany into unrelenting devotion. This behavior was really starting to bother some of the rookies, and even the seniors who had come back to help train them.

The bell for their scheduled bath chimed and both combatants, as well as all of their spectators, filed out of the sparring room and down the hall to the bath room. The latter was at least as large as the former, and with roughly a third of the current generation not yet assigned, incredibly desolate. With carefully placed sluices and troughs carrying water throughout the chamber in a deceptively serene manner, and no art of any kind to speak of, the bath room seemed both opulent and Spartan at the same time. Shelves with labels that changed with each new generation held carefully folded one-piece suits with breast plates and shoulder armor stacked neatly on top. Their tall, steel boots were arranged in neat rows along the nearby wall, and their claymores were racked by rank, further emphasizing the absence of those already sent out to hunt yoma, renegades, or Awakened Beings.

Some of the Witches, such as Clarice and Miata, and Alicia and Beth, partnered up to help wash each other. Rafaela was one of those that chose to bathe alone, and Janelle, lunatic that she'd become, had brought her sword with her to one of the basins dug into the bath floor. She was also carrying an armload of the various oils and implements that best suited the maintenance of a blade, as well as some soap, hair oil, and a loofah. Some of the rookies giggled at the sight of her carefully arranging these items, then laying her sword across the basin so she could stand in the latter and polish the former. Others glanced at her apprehensively, fearing for her health, mental or physical.

As soon as she'd had everything prepared, Janelle began to sing a song she made up to herself while she meticulously worked an even finer polish and keener edge into her weapon. Rather than a romantic ballad, she chose a hymn she'd memorized in her past life, replacing every use of the word 'God' with 'Cael'. This performance was interrupted by powerful feminine fingers curling into her hair and then shoving her chin against the flat of her claymore's blade. She had just a moment to get over the fact that her head could've been taken off and draw a breath to hold, before those same fingers yanked her face away from the steel and plunged it underneath the basin's surface.

"I've grown quite tired of hearing and hearing about you and your so-called 'pining' after my charge just because he showed you just how worthless you really are," Rafaela stated calmly while she knelt on the edge of Janelle's basin opposite the oils and held her head under the water. The hands clawing at her arm slowed in their desperate, instinctive struggle to survive. Rafaela decided that Janelle must be thinking at this point and decided to provide her with more food for her thoughts. "If you are not going to give up this foolish hero worship you're carrying on with regarding him, then you might as well let that breath out and help yourself to a lungful of…"

Rafaela's mouth suddenly clamped shut as she watched several huge bubbles break the surface of the water, which lowered shortly thereafter. In a heartbeat, she yanked the younger girl out of the basin by the handful of hair she was holding. Then she laid her out on her stomach and straddled her back and began alternating between pushing on it forcefully and just pounding the sides of her fists on it to coax the water out. After a couple minutes and what had to be a gallon or so of water, the now pale blue girl finally started coughing and choking, and her skin started to return to white. If nothing else, this was a sign she was starting to breathe again.

Eventually, chokes worked their way back down to deep, ragged breaths, and Janelle found herself lying under Rafaela in a puddle. If everyone else in the bath hadn't been watching, anyone who hadn't seen for themselves would never believe that the puddle was once entirely in Janelle's lungs. As soon as she seemed to recover, the new 15 felt her superior's light weight leave her back. This was shortly followed by the painful tension on her scalp as once again she was lifted by her hair. The difference this time was that the next thing she felt evenly dispersed the pain throughout the front side of her body and the left side of her face.

"What in the name of the Goddesses could you possibly be thinking, you stupid girl!?" Rafaela shouted from arm's length behind her victim as she smacked the wall with the young woman's head several times. "That was a rhetorical comment! And even if it wasn't, what you were about to do to yourself would have been a pretty stupid way to die!"

"Hey Rafie, don't you think that it's somewhat counterproductive…" Alicia's voice asked from several feet behind her and to her right, drawing a hard glare in that direction.

"…to try to cure brain damage by inflicting more of it?" Beth finished, sounding much like her sister and finishing where she left off so smoothly that it sounded like only one woman was mocking her. Apparently, the sync training the Organization was putting them through in another shot at making what they'd tried to transform Rafaela and her lost sister into, was starting to show its effects. Even now, with Beth's head over Alicia's shoulder and her arms wrapped around her sister's torso, they looked more like a two-headed, four-armed freak than two individual women. And oh, how she wanted to _destroy_ that creature.


	4. Chapter 4: Stars of Hope

_Author's Notes: In my mind, the scene in which Michael and Ryan are revealed and their subsequent bout is set to Godsmack's 'Sick of Life'._

The sparring hall clamored with the sounds of the dozen or so Witches that had yet to have been sent out. Their bouts had been interrupted so the messages about to be delivered to them could be heard clearly. Judging by the look on the messenger's face, the news was not good. She cleared her throat before speaking, hoping none of the violent women she was facing would take her head off for saying what she was about to say.

"As you all well know, the catastrophe at Pieta has resulted in a severe reduction in our numbers…" she swallowed, watching as the girls who were about to find out they were survivors perhaps only because they had yet to be sent out shifted uncomfortably. "And that, over the past few weeks, over thirty more Witches have been sent out…" she was visibly shaking at this point, apparently indecisive as to whether she should drop to her knees or bolt. As her strength left her, she settled for the former. "It has become my duty to inform you that… that…" she started to sob at this point, and her mood was horribly contagious. "…twenty of them are not coming back. Ever." She finally broke down, and was later joined by at least half of the others, those whose emotional schooling had either not started or was failing.

Suddenly, Alicia and Beth were standing at either side of the unfortunate acolyte, helping her to her feet before shooing her out of the hall. As one, they removed their claymores from their backs and slammed the tips into the ground to get the rookies' attention. It certainly worked. They both smiled at the new girls, who responded with uncertain smiles of their own.

"Though it may seem we are facing great despair…" Alicia said as she removed the large case her claymore had been attached to and laid it on the ground.

"…our losses have come at a time of a greater gain," Beth finished, doing the same. Once again moving in perfect unison, or perhaps they always had been, each of them opened their respective cases and pulled out of them strange swords.

As the two stood, the others recalled from Nina's drawings that these were the designs requested by Ryan and Michael before their procedure began. Ryan's weapon, in Alicia's hands, was different from the traditional claymore in that its hand guard was more of a cage, and its blade began tapering at the hilt rather than near the tip. That, and the large pommel, focused the weapon's weight at the hilt. This results in the ability to perform quick, precise strikes and a strong close-range defense at the cost of strength and long-range effectiveness.

The weapon wielded by Michael could safely be described as ridiculous, both in its size and in the idea that it could be effective. One of its edges was about three feet shorter than the other, starting at the tip and ending a little more than a meter from the hilt. Its length and width nearly resembled a small coffin lid, and a mercurial core gave it a weight that shifted with centrifugal force when it was swung, thereby reducing the normal cost to speed that such a heavy weapon induced. The result was a blade that delivered impossibly powerful strikes (even by the standards of the superhuman half-yomas) and made a veritable wall when used defensively. However, stopping and/or transitioning between attack and defense suffered greatly due to the same features that provided its advantages.

"So tell me, Michael…" Ryan began as he snatched his sword out of the air immediately before him and snapped it to a low guard.

"Hmm?" Michael responded with an inquisitive grunt as he also caught his weapon by its hilt with only his primary hand, before quickly turning it tip down and sticking it in the ground, thus bringing its pommel level with his now-silver eyes.

"…what exactly did you do for a living before you came to be lured by a Witch to her home?" Ryan finished, smiling slyly at his counterpart. He knew that despite the enhanced hearing the females had as an option, they still had to get past the jarring adjustment between the crushing news they'd just received and the revelation of the two of them to use it. Michael chuckled before responding.

"I was the Captain of Her Majesty's Royal Guard. And yourself?"

"The favored lapdog among a wealthy woman's personal bodyguards." Ryan's grin flickered away only briefly as his mind made the connection between what he had been and what he'd become.

"Thought it might be something like that. Well then, shall we show these ladies how we can perform with our true weapons?" Michael worded his challenge as an invitation, even though he knew Ryan wouldn't pass up on it anyway. As he spoke, he pulled the six-inch tip of the blade out of the floor and took a two-handed grip on the hilt in order to raise the tip into a standard guard position.

"But of course. After all, what sort of man passes up a chance to perform for such a lovely audience?" Ryan responded while bringing his legs and heels together in a straight line, and at the same time raising his hand guard up until the hilt was mere inches from his face in line with his chin. Then he rotated the sword so the blade split the image of his face for anyone directly in front of him, snapped to a lower-right guard, and finished by tapping his shoulder with the blade's tip.

Then both men vanished, using the powerful yoki their completed transformations gave them to burst their speed. They reappeared about thirty feet from their initial position and facing each other from ten feet apart, or the width of a sparring circle. At this point, the women present acted on instinct until their minds finished either absorbing or simply shunting the overwhelming information that had just been shoved down their throats and found seats among the observation benches. The faces of some were invariably grim, a trait preferred by the Organization, but their choice to sit close to each other illustrated both the lack of others and their mood.

The males were doing what they could to inspire a change in the latter. They battled back and forth at gradually increasing speeds, with Michael's powerful assaults just barely held at bay by Ryan's stylish evasions and deflections. On the flip side, Ryan's hails of short strikes were warded off by Michael's miniature wall of steel. A few minutes into the fight, the bastard sword-wielder addressed his more heavily armed counterpart through their mind link.

(-I'll have to admit I'm impressed, Michael,-) Ryan stated calmly as he dodged two downward slashes, then charged forward, only to be stopped by a right-to-left slash that he blocked at the base of his blade. The sheer force of the strike still removed his feet from the ground and sent him flying in the direction the blade was travelling. Of course, he didn't dare allow this to cost him his dignity, back flipping as he flew and slowing his flight with one foot before stopping it with both just inches from the wall that was now at his back. (-To be honest, I never expected such speed and grace from such a brutish weapon.-)

(-Feh. By 'brutish weapon', do you mean me, or this hunk of steel?-) Michael punctuated his question by charging his opponent with yoki-enhanced speed and attacking with another horizontal slash, this time left-to-right. As expected, this time his foe completely dodged the blade, which left and eight foot wide gash in the wall that was three feet deep at its deepest point.

(-I wonder…-) Ryan said as Michael felt a weight at the end of his blade, and looked at it in time to see Ryan start to charge down it at him.

In the fraction of a second it took the lighter fighter to cover the blade's length, the stronger one swung his sword back toward the wall at an angle just sharp enough to dig the tip into the ground and shoved the hilt toward the air, stopping abruptly at arm's length. This action launched Ryan off the large sword's hand guard and up toward the wall. Michael was expecting the somewhat slow, arcing backwards somersault Ryan executed to land on the wall as though it were the floor. He showed this by upper-cutting hard with his blade, stopping its path when it pointed directly at his foe and using the momentum of the shifting weight to help him charge up the wall.

Ryan's smile returned as he easily sidestepped the impressively swift advance of his rival's massive weapon. Despite what common sense might dictate, rather than using his superior speed to press his current advantage, he simply waited for Michael's body to come within reach of his sword. When it did, however, he was firmly reminded that what his opponent wielded made a pretty effective shield as well. Ryan responded to Michael's surprisingly smooth deflection by bursting to the floor to attack from below.

Michael stopped his charge as soon as Ryan tried to attack him, and since the other man was no longer either in front of him or within his peripheral vision, he reasoned that he must now be on the ground. Ryan seemed to suffer from irreparable predictability, and this folly was brought down on him in the form of a 180 pound blade. For a weapon like Michael's, a downward strike was as fast as it would ever get, and an opponent directly below the wielder was a choice target.

The two blades met perpendicular to each other accompanied by a small shower of sparks and a clang that echoed throughout the building, and followed shortly by a shockwave that kicked up all the dust within ten feet of the point of impact, obscuring the fighters from the spectators.

(-Ha. Made you go over 10%...-) Michael taunted, seeing the golden glow of his rival's eyes through the slowly dissipating cloud of dust.

(-Naturally, I only respond in kind…-) Ryan stated coyly, seeing the same. (-I wonder if you even know that your yoki spikes when you believe you're about to deliver a death blow?-)

Now that they had stopped moving, they suddenly became aware of the rushing, ecstatic feeling enveloping their bodies. It was a strange pleasure, seeming to combine erotic bliss with a growing, literal thirst for blood. Rather than fearing a loss of their morality, however, the two decided between themselves and within their mind link to merely change the situation to a more favorable one. The two burst away from the wall and returned to normal movements once each had arrived in the center of a separate sparring circle, now facing the dozen Witches.

"We know you enjoyed the show, short as it was," Michael said, dropping the ricasso of his blade across his shoulders. "But we also know that playing is much more entertaining than watching."

"With this knowledge in mind," Ryan continued, releasing the sword with his left hand to run it through his decidedly feminine upper-back length silver hair, "we would like to invite all of you to try your hands against whichever of us you wish, in a match to unconsciousness or submission, whatever comes first."

Whether they were drawn by a lust they couldn't explain, a competitive nature, the desire to put the arrogant bastards in their places, a simple wish for a good fight, or the fear of being left out, not a single Witch refused the challenge. The two men smiled as each was surrounded by a half dozen females, all of whom released the amount of yoki they felt would be necessary to overcome or at least survive their chosen opponents.

(-This is going to be worth all the pain we've just suffered.-)

(-Agreed.-)


	5. Chapter 5: Warlocks

_Author's Note: I mentally used the song 'Wars' by Hurt as the theme song for Michael, Ryan, and Cael's fight scene, starting from the point where the door opened. This fight will be continued in the next chapter. Also, for those who have gotten to this point before I noticed my punctuation problem, _(-telepathy-) _and (internal thoughts) to clarify._

The third male's procedure was nearing its end, and the Elders leading the Organization ordered Rubel to take two Witches with ranks higher than 20 to welcome him back to the world of light and life. Possessing the flair for the melodramatic that he did, the spy went with the obvious options. One of which was proving herself an increasingly promising source of just that. Unlike Rafaela, the other option, Rubel felt a deep-seated pleasure that grew harder to contain with Janelle's worship of the man he was about to reveal to her.

In his mind, the most probable scenario would play out like links in a chain. First, the doors are opened in the grand manner typical of this estate. Next, the would-be devout follower's attempt at a blushing bride's introduction finds her self-constructed fantasy world shattered as Cael is revealed in a condition that would be pitiful by mortal standards. Then, she would react in the only natural manner, by avenging her lost dreams on the one she based them around. For Rubel, the real treat was trying to decide whether Rafaela or Cael would be the one to kill Janelle before one of them did it. Reality, however, was unkind to everyone's dreams, no matter how close to it they might seem to be.

Cael heard a sound, the first in what felt like ages that did not consist either of the machines forcing the demon flesh and blood into his body or that of his body adjusting to the invasion. Then he heard but felt to a much greater extent the numerous tubes shutting off and detaching themselves forcefully from his body, which they had kept suspended about ten feet above the ground. With his muscles and bones misshapen from the still-finishing metamorphosis, it was far from a graceful landing. His ears were the first to finish, and his enhanced hearing alerted him to the footsteps of the first living beings he would ever see or hear since they'd shut him in the hell hole he was currently in.

This was the moment Rubel had been waiting for, the culmination of Janelle's growing madness. As he'd expected, Cael was a horrible mess, with ichor and blood oozing out of holes that were punched into his body at three-inch intervals. The new machine hung over him like the kind of stinking, dripping plant that one could expect to find in some dark pit in Hell. When he heard the younger Witch gasp, his expectation of pending entertainment spiked. However, when he turned to look in her direction, the expression he saw on her face was not one he could have even fathomed.

"Ohh…" She cooed, as though looking at an infant or small animal. Then she removed her hands from her cheeks and clasped them in front of her, tearing her silver eyes off the male to direct them toward the heavens. "I humbly and gratefully accept the duty of midwife to your newborn. I promise to be his faithful nurse until he reaches his destined godhood." She half-chanted while approaching the suffering young man with deliberate, measured steps. Rafaela, two steps behind her until she started moving again, watched the girl with confusion warring with self-restraint across her features. A thought occurred to her, and the latter won quickly.

_(If one of these two doesn't kill this woman soon, she's going to give me an aneurism.)_ Rubel thought shortly before his brain temporarily shut down to avoid the pain trying to follow Janelle's logic pattern. Following the few seconds that took, he returned to full consciousness in time to witness the end of her trek (which now involved skipping) and kneel beside Cael.

For his part, the new Warlock was also just finishing the arduous process of restoring his thoughts to normalcy. When he did, and his memory returned, he identified the Witch with her arms around him and an obviously unbalanced look on her face as the one he'd fought an unknown amount of time ago. Cael wasn't sure if he had been breathing up until this point, but he certainly wasn't now. He felt the arm around his back leave his body and tried to look back and see where it had gone, but on one side, it had left his peripheral vision, and the other, her head was in the way.

"Shh… don't worry, Little God," she whispered in his ear, making him even more nervous "I'm here to welcome you to the mortal world. Here, this should help you breathe…"

"Janelle, no!" Rafaela shouted, her tension turning into genuine anxiety as she thrust her palm out, trying to signal Janelle to stop. The rookie wasn't listening, and she raised her hand a little further as she tensed for the strike. "Janelle, the _holes!_" Rafaela punctuated this last warning by bursting toward the two and trying to snatch the other girl's wrist. She was surprised when she missed twice within the space of Janelle's single swing.

* * *

Once again the sparring hall had more spectators than combatants. Granted, every woman of either generation of Witches took her training seriously, but there was something mesmerizing about watching the two best they had as they trained their males. Ryan and Michael, who had spent the time since their completion alternating between sparring with various Witches, being bathed by them, and fucking them, were growing more powerful by the day. Currently, they seemed to be capable of matching their handlers in single combat. However, when the four paired off into male and female teams, Alicia and Beth defeated them every time. It was growing steadily more apparent that the twins were far more powerful working in tandem than they could possibly be as individuals. Rafaela's nickname for them while they were like this was 'Alith'. It had spread around quickly, and the two even started answering to it, simultaneously.

Suddenly, all thoughts of Warlocks, combat, and twins came to a screeching was interrupted by a half-scream, half roar that echoed through the surrounding area with so much force that some watched the wall to see if they would shake. Renee looked over her shoulder in the direction of Cael's prison for the duration of his infusion, and noticed that Janelle and Rafaela's yoki had been shrouded. The energy responsible for this effect intrigued Renee, just as the concept of it had when she first noticed Cael's not-yoki when Rafaela had initially introduced him.

Whatever that new ki had become, nobody else seemed to have noticed it. They were still whispering amongst themselves about the sound, some making jokes, others inquiring about whether Cael was finally awake yet. She wasn't going to tell anyone about the cloud of energy, nor about the fact that it was getting closer by the second.

_(Philistines,)_ Renee thought, watching worry and interest alike fade from the eyes of her comrades. No one had even asked her whether she had seen anything or not. _(They still only consider their human senses. I could expect that from the others in my generation, but seeing it in the senior one-digits is embarrassing.)_

The sound of the massive double door opening in a slow and stately manner stopped the four elites from resuming their match. Having just returned to their fighting stances, all of them looked away from each other and toward the source of the interruption. Participant and spectator alike felt something gently tug at them, first at their wrists and ankles, then gradually around the rest of their bodies. Just as the sensation rose to their jaws, it dissipated, followed shortly by a gentle but undeniable breeze in the opposite direction.

"I don't believe it! He has less yoki than Clarice!" Nana jibed, then turned her verbal assault more directly toward its intended target. "What are you, defe-cahh!" her jeer was swiftly interrupted by a force unseen by those who could not see yoki, which had yanked her from her seat and slammed her back against the ground.

"That's very ungentlemanly of you," Ryan, who was rapidly developing his ability to trace yoki, said to Cael, who he was sure had been the one who attacked Nana. Cael responded with the cold expression one might expect a viper to give a mouse it had yet to decide whether to devour, or not.

"Nancy's right, Cael." Michael chimed in gruffly, brandishing his glorified slab in the newcomer's direction. "Real men don't go around bullying women." This last comment managed to elicit some emotion: Cael's expression was incredulous.

At this point, Alicia and Beth decided that Rafaela had been looking a little too smug for a lot too long, so they decided to correct that attitude as swiftly as possible. Moving in a similar manner at the same time as they had been doing more and more often as of late, the sisters each grasped the shoulders of her male and whispered in his ear.

"Break him." Upon hearing the order, Michael smiled and Ryan looked uncertain. Unlike his surlier, burlier counterpart, he was gradually forming an impression of the current extent of their new opponent's power.

At first, it seemed as though he had virtually none. Barely enough, in fact, to even register as a flicker within his body. Yet when one with more refined yoki-tracing abilities looked around the immediate area, more of Cael's energy signature became visible. It was everywhere, emanating off some random rocks on the floor, swirling through the dust in the air, flickering in the light through the stained window…

"Michael, wait!" Ryan's warning came too late. And it cost Michael his dignity. Eager to please his mistress, the big man charged at his target with 10% of his yoki already released. With eyes blazing gold and the sound of air being ripped around the big blade, he swung his zweihander at Cael in a diagonal downward arc. A crack ran across the floor with the force of the impact. But his opponent was no longer there to receive the blow.

"What the-" Michael's surprised reaction was cut short by the sole of Cael's steel boot slamming into the center of his breast plate. He felt a ripple flow through his chest and out his back, knocking the wind out of him before sending him flying across the chamber to slam into the stone wall on the far side.

Disgust crossed Cael's features as he lifted Michael's sword with his right hand. However, he didn't have long to consider just how worthless he thought the weapon was before Ryan's rapid-fire assault forced him to use it to defend himself. Ryan's highly tapered sword whistled with each strike, and air charged with his yoki cut in the direction of his strikes well past where his sword reached. Fortunately for the third male, Michael's sword seemed capable of also stopping these air slices.

Ryan's frustration grew with each flurry that failed to harm his foe. Even with the same oversized weapon, Cael was much faster than Michael. What made things worse was the fact that despite the fact that Ryan had also released enough yoki to change the color of his eyes, Cael didn't even seem to be trying. Watching the other man's motions, he noticed that they were as fluid as his own were. Then Ryan felt the unknown force Cael was exuding thicken around his limbs and slow him down.

_(I can't believe these two incompetents dare call themselves swordsmen.)_ Cael thought derisively as he pulled the sword he'd taken into a horizontal position and blocked five more strikes in one fluid motion. _(A child from my village could walk all over either of them.)_ He stomped his left foot and swung his weight forward, using it to shove the huge blade and his opponent to the ground a few feet away. Then he leaped and twisted into a spin, landing hard with both feet onto the heavy steel that was pinning Ryan to the broken floor.

Michael coughed up blood and shook his head, his vision slowly returning to him. Then he peeled himself away from the wall his body had cratered and stood up. It brought him no satisfaction to see that Ryan wasn't fairing much better than he was. In fact, the knowledge that his own sword was being used to beat his new best friend pissed him off. Taking a step forward and crouching into a runner's stance, he drew power from the earth beneath him to launch himself at their shared enemy.

Cael was facing Michael when he started his second charge, so he was far from surprised to see him coming. In response, he stepped off of the blade holding Ryan down and stomped on its pommel. This snapped it up into a vertical position between Cael and Michael, and the former used a palm strike to propel the weapon toward its owner. It flew like a spear, but Michael was not about to be killed by his own blade. He twisted his torso and stepped to the side of his charge, catching the hilt as it passed him.

Ryan had vanished from the ground as soon as the weight of Michael's sword left his body, retrieving his own in the process. He stood opposite his friend, feeling the absence of the tendrils of Cael's strange power, which he took as an indication of the man's lack of attention on him. Now that there was a pause in the combat, Ryan weighted the situation in his mind. Both he and Michael had their swords drawn and ready, and they were both within striking range of Cael, who did not. On the other hand, even though the two of them were fighting him alone, and at 10% versus his… still indeterminable power, the advantage seemed to be with Cael.

(-The obvious solution is to enhance our own strengths and compensate for each other's weaknesses. We're no match for him fighting as individuals.-) Ryan sent to Michael, seeing his partner scowl as he received the message.

(-I don't want to admit you're right, but there's no time to argue. Even without our fair ladies' orders, I'd do whatever it takes to wipe that arrogant glare from that bastard's face. You go high, I'll go low.-) The two prepared to attack, then paused again when they noticed a significant change: Cael had bared his blades.

The sword in his right hand was as long as any claymore, but it was half as wide, curving ever so slightly as it gracefully flowed to its tip. It seemed to lack a sharp edge, instead having been rounded in an arc narrow enough to minimize its aerodynamic sacrifice. The sword in his left hand was half as long, but its appearance was far more wicked. Its razor-sharp edge hooked with slightly less severity than a sickle, and the blade flared just before the third that included the tip.


	6. Chapter 6: 100 Blades

_Author's Note: As promised, more of the fight. If you're continuing with the mental 'music video' trend I've been trying with these scenes, this one starts to Linkin Park's 'Hit the Floor', with System of a Down's 'Aerials' accompanying the special techniques._

The earth shattered. The air screamed. An unknowable energy blended with yoki as it ebbed and flowed throughout the battlefield. The Witches, regardless of their ranks, felt terror twist their altered stomachs as they witnessed the unnatural and most likely uncontrollable power of the Warlocks. Michael and Ryan had both ramped up to 25%, tinting their skin blue, sharpening their teeth, and enhancing their muscle structure. Cael's power was still impossible to measure, but whatever it was, it was surely greater than he had brought against the two initially.

"Damn you! If I can't kill you, I'll be damned if I don't at least hit you!" Michael shouted as his opponent casually redirected blow after powerful blow from his monstrous weapon. Every time his zweihander impacted directly against something, that object cracked a fraction of a second before breaking into tons of tiny little pieces. But with the way Cael was moving and blocking, Michael's blade never directly struck his.

"I agree with my counterpart. You are truly a vexing opponent," Ryan stated calmly as he repeatedly struck at Cael and only hit his blade every time. The Castellan wielder found his opponent's panawal khukuri to always be a half-step ahead of him, guiding his blade along its curve before slinging it off in a random arc that threatened to leave him vulnerable. Lucky for Ryan, Cael's attention seemed evenly divided between him and Michael, and he never dove hastily for killing blows.

However, that was not to say that the two were always attacking and the one on constant defense. The moment would frequently arise when Cael switched between the swords he had assigned to a given opponent, and every time he did, the one blocked most recently found another deep gash on his body. Similarly, either Michael or Ryan would sometimes find or force an opening in their shared opponent's defense and get a cut of their own in.

The fight was taking far too long, though. Despite the fact that their favored audience was watching the battle with the rapt attention of people watching their home's destruction, Michael was growing impatient. He still couldn't tell if Cael was stubbornly refusing to die or kill them, but he'd had more than enough. When his opponent's nodachi returned to strike at him –the khukuri leaving a good-sized gash in Ryan's chest at the same time- Michael forced it into a hilt lock, which he then used to launch himself away from the fight. He then elevated to 50%, practically blazing with yoki.

"Have a taste of this, you cocky bastard…" Michael muttered as he charged his blade with yoki, then landed and thrust it halfway into the ground at the same time. The yoki slid down his blade, then split out in a wide circle around him, splitting the ground in a more specific pattern than usual. The sight of ten circles composed of ten swords each rising out of the ground surrounding him caused both of the other two fighters to stop and watch, and he gained the spotlight from the spectators as well. "This…is my Stone Sword Legion!"

All of the stone replicas of Michael's greatsword were charged with his yoki and rose from the ground at once. Then they formed ranks and files in the air, tilting until all of their tips were focused on Cael, who had just noticed that Ryan was no longer near him. Picking up his yoki signature again, he spotted the man he'd just injured standing on the hilt of the sword to Cael's center-left of the rank furthest from him.

(-Let's hope this doesn't kill the girls. I haven't had my fill of them yet.-) Ryan sent to his partner as he charged his own special attack. With a single swing of his blade, he sent out a series of shockwaves that each preceded one of Michael's swords as all dove toward the area surrounding and including Cael's position. "My half of this joint attack is called "Divine Cutting Gale."

In succession as rapid as the fall of individual drops in heavy rain, the attacks slammed into the ground. The first quarter were centered on where he currently stood, while the rest were dispersed throughout the rest of the area between their previous center of combat and the edge of the spectators' seating area. This entire vicinity was immediately shrouded in the dust produced by its annihilation and that of the stone swords.

Ryan landed and used another Divine Cutting Gale to clear away the dust, and reveal their enemy in the process. When he saw the result of his combined work with Michael, he wasn't sure whether to be thrilled or disheartened. Two hundred yoki-charged blade strikes had been directed at Cael at once, with the result being the loss of his right arm and left eye.

Cael had been cratered into the wall opposite his two foes by the stone sword that had sheared through his right shoulder and the one he caught halfway through his left eye. The cleared debris unveiled him in the midst of removing it. Dropping the heavy blade, he reached up with his still-present hand and scraped the remainder of his eye out of its socket.

"You can't still be alive!" Michael shouted from next to Ryan, while at the same charging to, and shortly passing, the 50% mark. He released his off-hand grip on his zweihander as he continued to release more and more yoki. The floor in his immediate vicinity was pulverized as the demonic energy he unleashed tore through it. "I refuse to let you take another breath!"

"That's it! I'm out." Nana said as she picked herself up off the floor and burst to whichever door was closest. How the two maniacal males managed to steer their over-powered attack in a way that kept it from hitting her, she didn't know, but she wasn't going to just sit and wait for her luck to run out. From the looks of things, Michael was about to awaken, and Ryan tended to do whatever Michael did, so it was about to get more dangerous than the cheap thrill of watching a dog fight was worth.

_(He already regenerated his arm. That means he's a defensive type, right?) _Ryan wondered as he kept his yoki release in line with his partner's. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as the ecstatic rush of unfathomable power rushed around and through his body. He even reveled in the sound of the air immediately surrounding him shrieking in protest.

He was about to worry about the risk of awakening when Michael suddenly stopped them both at 75%. At this point, they both had dark blue skin and huge wings. All of their teeth were fangs, and their feline eyes blazed gold. Michael's size had doubled in all three dimensions, keeping his bulky build despite his new height. Ryan's form was more lithe, and his wings had extremely sharp nine-inch barbs.

Ryan looked over at his partner and wondered what kept him from going over the edge. The list of emotions he'd expected to see on his friend's face was short, to be certain, but he never would have imagined the raw terror he saw. The whole time they were releasing, Michael had kept his eyes on Cael, trying to cow the man with their power. Wondering and fearing how their rival might have managed to turn _that _around, Ryan forced himself to look at the third combatant.

Michael couldn't believe his eyes. He tried, but his mind adamantly refused to accept what they were telling it as reality. As Michael crossed 60%, Cael had pulled all of his yoki and not-yoki –which he could see now- from all over the chamber back into himself and condensed the two energies into a black ball in one hand and a white one in the other. Then he performed an odd motion where he deliberately stepped so his feet were shoulder width apart as his hands made a circle around the limit of their reach. When he brought his palms together, he forced the two glowing spheres into one, then released the new energy back into his body.

But what truly terrified the greatsword wielder was what happened shortly after Cael opened his eyes again. He mouthed the word 'Hecatoncheires'. In what seemed like an instant, Cael became a monster with at least twenty legs and what had to be around fifty heads and a hundred arms. Each arm ended in a hand holding either one sword or the other. To make matters worse, the sixty or so of the creature's eyes that he could see were silver, which meant he _still _hadn't breached the 10% mark.

Michael and Ryan, as well as every Witch in the room except Renee, Janelle, and Rafaela moved to attack the monstrosity they believed Cael had become. Eleven blades converged on him and struck only air. Renee giggled as she watched all of the combatants attacking her new favorite mystery fail repeatedly to hit something that should be impossible to miss. Then the Witches who were fighting found themselves being swept away by some unseen force shortly before seeing the abomination bend and twist to strike at all of them with its many blades.

To make matters worse, the truth of the monster's nature was revealed when Cael failed to maintain it. After only a minute of existence, the Hecatoncheires broke apart and became fifty individual images of the third male. Every last one of them was looking at his assailants with indignation, of all things. The images began flickering in a random order, and each time one did, the combatant closest to it felt steel slamming into his or her body. Two nearly-awakened males, two single-digit females, and seven others, and all they could do was take the damage he was inflicting on them.

Beth felt a familiar yoki surge and turned to see her sister also raising her power to the limit. While she knew they could control Alicia's awakened form, they couldn't let the rookies know that, or the Organization would lost what remained of their latest batch.

She tried to deflect one of Cael's kicks from her front right with her claymore and was rewarded for her efforts by him backhanding her from behind her and to her left. The bastard was demonstrating an inconceivable speed, but he seemed to be trying to avoid hurting them more than necessary. In fact, as soon as that thought crossed her mind, the images of him surrounding her and those that had not pushed themselves to their limit all left to converge on those that had.

Alicia realized her folly when the enemy male stopped attacking her sister and focused on her. Where there were once only four on her, now there were seventeen. In her rage, the raven-winged woman surrounded herself with a flurry of strikes that she was sure would keep him away from her. Her certainty lasted until his invisible energy coiled around her ankles and yanked her down. He caught her and bound her arms with his own, having solidified by cutting down to three images, each pinning one opponent.

"Hey, what are you trying to pull?" She shouted at him as she struggled to break free of him, something that should have been effortless but in fact proved futile.

Rather than give up, she fought more violently, even though she knew that if she just stopped, he would let her go. She tried to batter him with her wings, but he was inside the limit of their arc. Hearing him sigh only pissed her off even more, and she responded by stabbing his foot with her sword. Only she missed, because he was only holding her for 30% of each second, and he was controlling which 30% that was.

Ryan and Michael looked at each other, then at Cael, and then shrugged and lowered their power output until their hair and eyes had the same silver color as his. He released them and even helped them up, adding to their confusion as the images holding them down disappeared, leaving only the one restraining Alicia. Naturally she tried to stab his foot again, and even succeeded, but gained nothing from it.

"If you think I'm just going to surrender to you, you might as well forget it. I'd rather die." Alicia barked at him, feeling her sync with her twin waver as their emotions deviated too far from each other. This mortifying sensation caused her to release the hilt of her sword and distracted her long enough that she failed to notice him releasing her and moving toward Rafaela. Once she felt her knees hit the ground, however, her attention was returned to him, which she demonstrated by reaching for her claymore so she could hit him with it. The instant she realized it wasn't there, he threw it back at her without even breaking his stride. It pierced the center of her chest and buried half its blade in the wall behind her, a wound that would have been fatal if it wasn't for the fact that she was a half-yoma.

Beth rushed over to help her sister while the other half-yomas marveled at Cael as he approached Rafaela. He stopped about fifteen feet away from her when he noticed Janette leaping toward him. Sidestepping her attempted tackle, he kicked her left knee out, forcing her to stumble to her hands and knees. Then he drew his khukuri again and stepped beside her shoulder, raising the curved blade over his head and angling its extremely sharp edge toward the back of her neck.

Before he even moved to strike, he first looked at each of the other half-yomas present in turn. None of them moved, not one of them even said anything, so he shrugged and used the large knife for its intended purpose. Janette never felt the steel pass through her neck before she saw the ground rush up toward her. She tried to catch herself but couldn't, and she didn't understand why her body wasn't accepting her commands.

Cael sheathed the short blade again, then turned to head for the door, stopping short when he saw that Rafaela was much closer to him than she had been before he put Janette out of her misery. The sound of her slapping him echoed throughout the remains of the sparring hall.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you kill her and not any of the one that were trying to kill you?" Rafaela demanded of him, her mind reeling as she tried to understand his actions and motives. To add icing to the cake, she heard his voice for the first time in weeks, and it seemed to have not suffered either from his procedure or from lack of use.

"They are not damaged products. She is. The only cure for madness is death, and if anyone here believed otherwise, they would have at least _said _something in her defense," he said bluntly. Then he decided that his instinct to seek the comfort of his presence was incorrect, and stepped past her to head toward the door.


End file.
